


Vantage Points

by thingswithwings



Category: Leverage
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec wants something, but he's not sure what it is.  Eliot figures it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vantage Points

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this fic in June of 2009, while on a Greyhound bus. It was the first time I'd ever taken a bus with wifi on board and I was SO EXCITED to write promptfic while on the move! Then I found out that looking at a computer while on the bus made me SO CARSICK, and I gave up trying to write this little thing. Anyway, I finished it a while ago, thought I'd post it today. These days I am more of a Parker/Alec/Eliot girl, but 2009, she was a different time. Voyeurism's still hot, though, that hasn't changed.

"No, I just – will you – " Alec's naked and sweating and hard, and if he can, if Eliot would – 

"What?" Eliot gasps, shoving against Alec's body with his thighs, pushing, angling to flip them over – 

"I don't – can you _just lie still_?"

Eliot pauses, relaxing back against the bed and blinking up at him, and for just a second it's perfect, a little distance between them.

"You want me to lie still." Eliot narrows his eyes. "While we're having sex."

For a second, Alec thinks about mumbling a nevermind and going back to the really nice handjob Eliot was giving him, the really nice blowjob he was planning on giving Eliot. But there's something about the suspicious, inquisitive look in Eliot's eyes that says no way, no how, no backing out, now this has to be a _thing_.

He sits up and backs off a little, putting more space between them. "Naw, man," he says, rubbing at the back of his head self-consciously. "It's just, we don't have to have a wrestling match every time we have sex, do we?"

"Okay," Eliot says slowly, still staring at him like there's some further secret to dig up. Some angle to play.

"Especially since you know I can take you," Alec adds, grinning. He reaches out to Eliot and grabs his dick and gives it a friendly little squeeze. Eliot loses the suspicious look and rolls his eyes.

"Now there's a fantasy," he grumbles, allowing himself to be pushed back down.

Alec kisses him and holds his wrists to the bed (pretends like he's holding Eliot's wrists to the bed) and they fuck and it's good.

-

He can feel Eliot's hesitation over the next few weeks; when they manage to get together, late nights in the office after a con or rare days off at Alec's place, he's holding back. Being gentle. Alec would slap him upside his head and say _that's not what I meant_ , except he isn't sure what he did mean.

-

Alec doesn't really know how they fell into their little . . . thing. He knows he never would've gotten up the courage to grab Eliot up and kiss him all romantic, and it's hard to believe that Eliot would've done it, either. Alec just remembers Eliot's mouth on his all of a sudden, remembers pressing his tongue against Eliot's soft, full lips. Eliot's stronger but Alec is taller, and in that moment it had felt like a real advantage, like Eliot was safe in his grip, like he could contain all that power and violence within the circle of his long arms. 

When they stopped kissing, Alec was out of breath, and Eliot looked angry, brow furrowed, lips pressed tight together as if he hadn't just been shoving his tongue all up in Alec's mouth.

"Dammit, Hardison," he said, but without much of his usual emphasis. If Alec didn't know better, he would've said that Eliot's tone was _fond_. He licked his lips.

"I do something to piss you off?" he asked. He gave Eliot his best grin, then, the one he knew really did piss him off. "And how can I do it again?"

At that Eliot's general-purpose anger focused, his gaze locking on Alec's face. He pushed Alec to the floor of the office – they were in the office, and it wasn't even at the end of a con, it was in the middle of a con – and he didn't waste any time, just got the necessary clothing out of the way and sucked Alec's dick hard and rough and wet and swallowed him down when he came.

It was amazing, and Alec had precisely zero complaints about the whole thing. Once he got his shit together and returned the favor, taking Eliot's thick cock in his mouth and working him until he came with a low grunt, he's pretty sure Eliot didn't have anything to complain about either.

They were working together all the time, so it was convenient, and on top of that they had that zippy little energy always crackling between them, and so there was really no reason for them not to fuck every now and again. It didn't make them best friends or anything.

It was pretty nice, though.

-

"Yeah, baby, I got you now!" Alec shifts from one video feed to another, tracking the mark's movements – oh, this guy is _done_ , he can feel it, they've got him on camera in the right place at the right time and it just doesn't get any prettier than this.

Eliot walks around the desk to peer over his shoulder. He's chewing noisily on an apple, which kind of takes away from the gravity and triumph of the situation, but Alec decides magnanimously to ignore it.

"Did he go into the room with the statue?"

"He did, he did, we've got him – c'mon, baby, look at it, just look at that statue for me – "

On the computer monitor, in glorious 1920x1200 streaming HD, the mark not only looks at the statue, but _reaches out to touch it_.

"Oh! Baby!" Alec loves it so much he has to push his chair away from the desk, throw his arms up like a referee announcing a touchdown. "Oh, baby, that was beautiful, yes, come to _daddy_!"

As the mark seals his fate, Alec turns to grin widely at Eliot, wanting to share the moment with him. He can feel himself beaming from ear to ear like a dumb kid with his first score, but damn, it just doesn't get any better than this.

But Eliot is looking at him funny, eyebrows raised like he's surprised and mouth turned down like he's not, paused ridiculously in mid-chew, and for no reason at all Alec feels heat creeping up his neck.

-

It's a late night a week or so later, after a long con, the kind of night when Eliot will look at him and nod his head toward the door in a completely unsubtle way, or when he'll tell Eliot to come on over and watch a movie, play some video games, but Eliot seems to be going out of his way to avoid him this time. Alec tells himself that hey, a man gets tired sometimes, and anyway Eliot was limping a bit after that fight he had with the French art dealer, so maybe he's feeling the ice packs and analgesics more than the six-packs and anal sex. That's cool.

He goes home and stares into the fridge for a while, like a meditative practice, then thinks about playing some World of Warcraft. He sits down on the couch. He picks up a rubber ball from the table and rolls it around on his hands.

His phone rings.

"Hardison," Eliot says, when Alec picks it up. "Are you at home?"

"Yeah," Alec says. He thinks about what he'll say if Eliot wants to come over and have sex after all. He was into the idea earlier, but now he's thinking about taking off his pants and curling up with his RSS feed.

"Are you alone?" 

Alec takes a second to consider feeling hurt by that, but then reminds himself that they aren't really dating, or monogamous, or anything. 

"Just me and the external drives." The ones across the room blink at him in a friendly blue way.

"Turn on your video feed." 

"Bossy, bossy."

When he opens his laptop, he finds an active video feed where he didn't expect one, in the list of cameras he gave out to the Leverage staff, with instructions to install them in their apartments. For emergencies only, and everyone had a remote to control their own camera, in case of a break in or something. They've never used them. The one labeled with Alec's code name for Eliot (23789bRT7000d) is flashing at him.

He clicks on it. The image resolves, and a small, cramped room comes into view: blank walls, drab couch, narrow cot shoved into the corner of the room. Eliot's apartment, he assumes; he's never been there.

Eliot himself is lying on the couch, naked, with his dick in his hand.

"Oh," Alec says, and hears the phone line go dead at the same time that Eliot hangs up his phone and tosses it to the floor.

"Is this what you wanted?" Eliot asks the camera. He sounds like he's trying to be sexy, but it comes across awkward. It's the way Eliot always sounds when he tries to do something outside his wheelhouse, like what he calls 'computer stuff' or what Alec calls 'subtlety.' Alec will probably never tell him this, but he loves when Eliot gets awkward, when the cold-blooded contract killer stuff goes away for a second and is replaced by an actual guy. It's reassuring.

"If not, maybe turn off the video feed and call me back," Eliot adds, and his hand moves just a little in an unsure, stuttering half-stroke up his cock and somehow, suddenly, it's the hottest thing Alec's ever seen. And he's seen a lot of porn.

Eliot's still talking. "If you don't call me back, I'll just keep going."

Alec unzips his jeans and gets his hand in his boxers and does not even think for one second about calling Eliot back.

"I figured we should maybe do something you like for a change," Eliot continues, and Alec has to laugh at the idea: that a sexual situation where Eliot can talk to him and he can't talk back is something that _Alec_ would want. 

"Yeah, you haven't got a horse in this race at all, Mr. I-got-hard-from-looking-at-a-camera," Alec mutters. His dick is getting hard pretty fast too, but he doesn't pump it yet, just grabs some lube from the side table and waits to see what Eliot's going to do.

Eliot sighs, relaxes further into the couch, and closes his eyes for a second as his hand strokes languorously up and down his dick. "But I know, I know, you'd probably like to give me directions or some shit like that." 

Alec really, really would. He hisses out a couple of curses at the little video-Eliot, but doesn't take his hand out of his pants.

"I – we could do that too, maybe," Eliot offers, looking directly into the camera. He's stuttering, sincere and tender the way he sometimes is around Alec, and following on his usual arrogant tough-guy tone it's overwhelming. Alec sucks in a breath and holds it while Eliot tries to find his way to the end of the sentence, pumping his cock to the same rhythm that Eliot's using.

"Next time, I guess. Let me do this first, okay?" Eliot gazes plaintively at the camera, and then, as if he can see Alec nodding enthusiastically at his own computer screen like a dumbass, he closes his eyes and thrusts into his own hand. Alec fists himself in time with Eliot's slow movements, trying to match the little twist of the wrist that he does at the head.

It feels a lot like when Eliot gives him a handjob; like it's Eliot's hand on his dick, Eliot's rhythm, Eliot's thumb rubbing over the slit in the way he does sometimes. Eliot has great hands, rough and callused, strong and flexible, the broad palms entirely unlike Alec's. 

"Fuck, Eliot, goddamn," Alec breathes. His voice echoes, lonely in his big empty loft apartment, but then he's joined by Eliot, who cants his hips up and gives a long, shuddering moan. 

Alec starts breathing hard, and he wants to go faster, but on the video feed Eliot's going just as slow as ever, eyes still closed, breathing evenly. The man is in ridiculous shape, and hardly ever even breaks a sweat when they're fucking; it's not surprising that he'd keep his breathing regular while he's jerking off.

What is surprising is that Alec's never noticed that before.

He tries to keep his breathing slow, too, so that he and Eliot are in synch.

"I should've figured you'd want this," Eliot says suddenly. Alec is shocked by the sound of his voice, coming after a long breathy silence. He looks up at Eliot's face, but his eyes are still closed.

The HD picks up Eliot's face in fine detail, his eyelashes, the place where his hair is sticking to the side of his head. His mouth. His tongue, when it darts out to lick his lips.

"But it took me a while," Eliot continues, and then his eyes do open, and Eliot stares up at the camera. "You could've said something."

"I really couldn't," Alec laughs, groaning as the slow twist of his wrist keeps him on the edge, not nearly enough to get him home.

"Is it about control?"

Alec's never heard Eliot talk this much in bed before. Hell, Eliot's never talked in bed at all before, beyond the necessary.

"Is it about how you want to be in control, or how you want to control me?" Eliot's gaze is still fixed on the camera.

"Dude, you turned the camera on," Alec objects. On screen, Eliot's other hand – his non-occupied hand – slips down his thigh, just the fingertips skating over his skin. After a couple of passes he gets more confident, starts rubbing his whole palm against his leg, up to the hip and down almost to the knee.

When he starts scratching a little with his nails, Alec finally recognizes the gesture.

It's his.

He touches Eliot like that, he realizes. 

And Eliot . . . knows that. Knows him, how he likes to touch and be touched.

He can't help it this time: his hand speeds up and his breathing speeds up and he feels himself start to lose it.

"I hope you're talking to me right now," Eliot says, and Alec only realizes that he's shut his eyes when he opens them again. He's hit with an orgasm-slowing pang of guilt, because he hasn't been talking and didn't know that's what he was supposed to be doing.

"Baby," he murmurs at the screen, half reproach and half indulgence. He's never called Eliot _baby_ in bed. He doubts that Eliot would like it.

But then, if tonight's little experiment proves one thing, it's that he might not know all the things that Eliot likes. And that maybe he should be trying anyway.

Eliot groans and finally starts to go faster, hand tight and merciless on his dick. "Next time I do want to hear you. Want to hear you talking like I'm some, some perp you got in your sights." 

"Fuck, Eliot," Alec says, and he wants nothing more than to talk at Eliot and give him exactly that. Like it means something even if Eliot can't hear him and doesn't know what he's saying. "Fuck, yes, go faster, c'mon baby, faster, harder, make yourself come, c'mon, for me – "

On screen Eliot shudders, just as if he can hear what Alec's saying, and his right hand rubs hard against his thigh and his fingernails dig into the skin there, scratching, harder than Alec's ever dared to do it. It's going to leave marks. Alec wonders fleetingly if he'll be brave enough, next time, to scratch that hard, to leave marks himself.

"Come for me, Eliot, come on," Alec gasps. He's fallen to his knees in front of the coffee table, dick fisted in his hand, sweating and half-trapped in his pants and boxers, feeling closer to Eliot than he ever has before, like he's under Eliot's skin and Eliot's under his.

"I want you to talk me off," Eliot bites out, his face getting that weird angry look it gets when he's really close to coming. "How come we never do that, you never talk me off, I never pin you on your stomach and fuck you – ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come, fuck – "

"Yes, come on, do it, come all over yourself, Jesus, Jesus, fuck – " and Alec makes himself wait until Eliot's come is rushing hot over his hand and down onto his belly and then tumbles headlong into his orgasm, letting the feeling overtake him as he pants and makes his own stupid sex face, the one that Eliot probably knows really well.

When he manages to get eyeballs on the screen again, Eliot's wearing a pair of boxers, sitting up on the edge of the couch and looking up at the camera again.

"This concludes our show," he says, like it's a joke he thought of beforehand and he feels like he'd better stick to it, even if it doesn't really work in the moment.

Alec's blissed out and sticky and hobbled by his clothing but none of that prevents him from getting his phone into his hand in two seconds flat. He and his phone have a special connection, like a Jedi and his lightsaber. 

Pressing the call button is a little harder, but he mans up and does it, mostly because he doesn't want Eliot to call him first.

"Hello." Trust Eliot to answer the phone like that after a ridiculous porno voyeurism sex session.

"Hey baby," Alec says, still maybe a little too giddy for his own good.

"Don't call me that," Eliot says, and he's not laughing but he is doing that thing with his voice that says he doesn't want to kill anyone.

"Okay," Alec says. "I won't." He can't stop himself from grinning all over his face. "Good to know."


End file.
